


agape

by orphan_account



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: hongbin loves jaehwan in five different ways, all amounting to the whole of his heart.





	1. agape.

**Author's Note:**

> chyeahhh this is based off of WongFuProduction's "The Last" video on Youtube. if you haven't watched it, i suggest doing so after reading this for more reference.  
> thank you to the babes who proofread this for me <3  
> also. i wrote this in like two hours so don't expect great things.

 

 

  

 

 

* * *

 

_agape love (n): unconditional, selfless love that transcends and persists regardless of circumstance; faithfulness, commitment, sacrifice._

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. who.

The few members in the audience clap half-heartedly, the applause ringing weakly along to the pulse of Hongbin’s heart.

High school talent shows were never events with lots of fanfare, and the short list of performers paired with the audience that barely fills up half the chairs in the auditorium are testament to that fact. Hongbin is honestly only here because he needs volunteer hours, and his only role is to man the audio system and play the correct backing tracks for each corresponding act. There’s a stack of CDs and USBs on the table, all with their act names written in a Sharpie scrawl on the cover. There’s only ten in total, and at this point, Hongbin doubts whether the volunteer hours were even worth it. He’s probably only going to get one, maximum, with how short the show is bound to be.

He stifles a yawn behind his hand as he picks up the next CD. The words  _ Lee Jaehwan, Act No. 7  _ are barely legible in bright blue marker as Hongbin carelessly jams it into the slot, preoccupied with what he’s going to eat for dinner when he gets home. The name barely registers in his sleep-addled mind.

The host — a girl in Hongbin’s class, whose voice is only getting drier and drier by the minute — listlessly announces “ _ third year Lee Jaehwan, performing a cover of ‘Moon of Seoul’ by Kim Gunmo”,  _ and Hongbin absentmindedly joins in the applause as a vaguely familiar face mounts the stage, clutching a microphone in his hands. 

The first beat of the track bursts out from the speakers, and Hongbin’s just about to reach for his game again to pass the time, before Lee Jaehwan is bringing the mic to his mouth and begins to sing.

Hongbin’s hand freezes halfway.

The voice he hears is unreal. It has to belong to an angel, or some mythical creature, because Hongbin’s never heard anything so ethereal.

He finally deigns to take a closer look at the performer, this Lee Jaehwan that he’s only heard of in passing. He’s surprised to see how handsome he actually is, passion etched into the details of his face as he sings his heart out on stage. His voice is pure honey, smooth and viscous and achingly sweet.

Some illogical part of Hongbin’s brain decides that no human with such a voice could ever be less than perfect. 

He scrambles for the few facts he’s heard, half of his mind still entranced by Jaehwan’s voice. He’s a popular third year, with lots of friends, the type of outgoing personality that Hongbin’s never had the confidence to interact with. Hongbin’s always had a skewed idea of Jaehwan in his head — some perfect popular guy with a perfect life and social group, the kind of person who was too good to talk to someone as shy and unassuming as Hongbin. 

Now, hearing Jaehwan’s voice, Hongbin is absolutely sure that he’ll  _ never _ have a chance.

The song draws to a reluctant end, and the applause is much more enthusiastic this time around. Hongbin snaps out of it enough to join in, a stupid sort of grin breaking out over his face as Jaehwan bows, eyes shining. 

How was it possible for a seemingly perfect person to become even more alluring?

Hongbin reaches for the next disc with slightly trembling fingers. Jaehwan’s triumphant grin and pure vocals are floating in his mind, messing with his train of thought, and Hongbin doesn’t want to linger too long on how fast his heart is beating. Jaehwan’s  _ Jaehwan,  _ a beautiful guy with a beautiful voice, and Hongbin’s just —

A finger taps lightly at Hongbin’s shoulder, and Hongbin’s hand slips on the buttons, slapping the  _ Play  _ button a little too forcefully. Hongbin whirls around only to be blinded by Jaehwan’s radiant grin. Jaehwan’s head is tilted slightly to the side, eyes alight with curiosity.

“Hey.” He says, and his speaking voice is just as nice as his singing voice. “Lee Hongbin, right? You’re in the year below me.”

_ He knows who I am.  _ Hongbin thinks as he nods numbly, the next act’s track fading to white noise in the background. Jaehwan’s even more stunning up close, and Hongbin’s having a hard time concentrating on forming coherent thoughts.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you. You always sit alone at lunch, don’t you?” Jaehwan extends a hand towards him. “You look so lonely, all the time. I’ve been wanting to ask if maybe you wanted to hang out sometime? I’d like to be your friend.”

A heart as golden as his voice. Hongbin can’t believe Jaehwan is getting more and more perfect by the second. 

“Sure,” He chokes out without thinking, and Jaehwan’s eyes crinkle in joy.

“I’m Lee Jaehwan.” He introduces himself.

“I know.” Hongbin blurts out without thinking.  _ Is there a more convenient time to sink into the floor and disappear? _

But Jaehwan’s eyes light up as Hongbin takes his hand and shakes it, trying to stop his cheeks from burning so damn red.

“Today’s our first day of friendship, then?” Jaehwan says in a lilting voice, sincere through and through.

Hongbin figures this is the moment he sees in all the dramas, all the cliche romance novels.

The moment the shy, lonely second year fell for the popular, perfect third year.


	3. what.

Jaehwan looks up from his phone, eyes crinkling as a welcoming smile blooms on his face. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Hongbin replies, falling onto the chair across from Jaehwan. Their usual hangout spot, the campus cafe, has remained virtually the same since freshman year. They’ve had the luck to attend the same university, and although their majors are different, their schedules were so similar that they decided to go ahead and be roommates. Every other day, though, they find the time to grab coffee in between lectures and see each other. Just because.

Since high school, Hongbin has shed much of the insecurity and shyness that’s held him back, and he has an adequate friend circle now. It’s also changed how he interacts with Jaehwan, their relationship morphing to something more comfortable and easy. Especially after Hongbin realized that Jaehwan was much more than the image he’d conjured of him in his head.

(Although Hongbin’s still convinced that Jaehwan’s as close to perfect as a person can get).

Jaehwan shoves a caramel macchiato across the table, and Hongbin takes it with a quick thanks. They know all of each other’s tastes now, what they like and don’t like. Hongbin sometimes thinks Jaehwan knows him better than he knows himself.

“Guess who’s a single man again,” Jaehwan says, sounding almost bored.

Hongbin’s cup freezes halfway to his mouth as he gives Jaehwan an incredulous look. “No way.”

“Mhm.” Jaehwan leans back in his chair, flicking a stray hair from his eyes. “I mean, Sanghyuk was a really nice guy, but I think we just never have the time to see each other, you know? He’s always available when I’m not.”

The corners of Hongbin’s lips turn down, though there’s a guilty monster lurking beneath his skin that’s a little too pleased at this new development. “Shame. He was really nice.”

“He was.” Jaehwan sighs in a  _ what can you do  _ manner. “What about you? Still haven’t found anyone that’s caught your eye?”

Hongbin grimaces. “I’m gonna need a few years to recover from Hakyeon.”

“Mm, he did not take that breakup well.” Jaehwan recalls mournfully. “It’s alright, Bin. Don’t let his occasional death stares stop you from getting ass.”

Hongbin rolls his eyes over his cup. “It’s like he conveniently teleports to wherever I’m trying to flirt with someone, just to guilt me all over again.”

Jaehwan clucks his tongue. “Bad guy.” He says in mangled English, and Hongbin chokes on his macchiato. It’s an old joke between them, ever since they watched some American superhero movie and Jaehwan would always attempt to copy the lines from the script, just to amuse Hongbin. 

“Honestly, we’ve been through so many of each other’s breakups, we should just date each other if we ever get desperate enough,” Jaehwan remarks offhandedly. Hongbin’s fingers clench involuntarily.

“If I ever feel like dating someone with the mind of a six year old, then maybe we’ll talk about it.” Hongbin shoots back.

Jaehwan’s bottom lip juts out, right on schedule, as his eyebrows furrow in displeasure. “I’m an  _ adorable  _ six year old, excuse you,” He says, voice pitched high and squeaky the way it always does when he’s trying to be cute.

And it works.

Hongbin bites his lip to stop his smile, pretending to cringe instead. “You keep telling yourself that, hyung.”

Jaehwan reaches across the table to swat at Hongbin’s neck, scowling, and Hongbin narrowly dodges the blow with a cackle. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend and I love you.” Jaehwan grumbles, pretending to sniffle.

“Yeah.” The corner of Hongbin’s mouth quirks upward. “I know.”


	4. when.

Hongbin has a lot of mixed feelings about what he feels towards Jaehwan. Even after a year of dating him.

He likes Jaehwan. He knows that for sure. He wouldn’t have asked out Jaehwan first if he didn’t. And he doesn’t regret dating him at all. Jaehwan is comfortable, familiar, a welcome anchor in a territory that Hongbin’s never dared to venture in before.

Even now, it’s...nerve-wracking. Every time he kisses Jaehwan, his heart begins to beat unnaturally fast, and they’ve never gotten past any daring physical boundaries. Jaehwan is understanding and patient about everything, and Hongbin wonders if he’s just holding Jaehwan back from better things.

But it’s their first year anniversary, and Jaehwan has obviously not forgotten.

Jaehwan steals Hongbin for the day and they take a train back to their hometown. Hongbin feels like he already knows where Jaehwan’s going with this, but he only smiles to himself as Jaehwan leads him, fingers intertwined and palms pressed together, back to an old and familiar place.

“You’re so lame.” Hongbin barks out a laugh as he recognizes the facade of their old high school. The sports field’s been renovated, but that’s the only major change Hongbin can recognize. Everything else is virtually the same, as unchanging as Jaehwan himself.

Jaehwan’s grin is bashful. “I told you I’d do the cheesiest anniversary celebration possible, and I’m staying true to my word.”

Hongbin just laughs and shakes his head as Jaehwan tugs him towards the bleachers in the soccer field, footsteps echoing against the cold metal as Jaehwan plops down on the very top row. Hongbin sits down primly next to him, and even the melody of the wind sounds like home to him.

“This is only our first stop in Jaehwan’s First Year Anniversary extravaganza.” Jaehwan teases, resting his head on Hongbin’s shoulder. A breath catches in his throat as Jaehwan’s hair tickles the side of his neck, the corner of his jaw. “Right now, I’m taking you on a trip down memory lane.”

“Oh, joy. Please indulge me.” Hongbin says flatly. Jaehwan smacks his thigh.

“You can act a little more excited.” Jaehwan scolds, and Hongbin just knows he’s pouting. 

“Right.” Hongbin says, the beginning of a laugh on his tongue. It dies out, though, as they settle into a comfortable silence, taking in their surroundings. Hongbin remembers this field, even if it looks all new. He’d always sat by himself during soccer games, watching the other kids play after school as he tried to find reasons not to go back home and study more. Jaehwan had accompanied him here, once, to watch a game between rival schools. Hongbin had hated it, hated how loud everyone was cheering and how much commotion there was, but Jaehwan’s constant arm around his shoulder had made it just a bit more bearable.

Hongbin pauses, watching the grass blades sway in the wind.

He realizes, belatedly, that Jaehwan’s singing.

It’s soft, almost drowned out by how loud the wind is whistling through the trees, and Hongbin has to strain to hear it. But it’s there, the honey voice that he hasn’t heard in such a long time, ever since Jaehwan gave up his singing dreams for a more practical profession. It’s the same song from all those years ago, at the talent show. A song about the melancholic moon over the skyline of Seoul.

Hongbin’s mesmerized. The nostalgia is almost overwhelming, Jaehwan’s quiet voice digging up old memories and feelings like hidden gems in the earth. It hits Hongbin, how they’ve gone from their first awestruck meeting to now. Together and familiar and in love.

Hongbin’s heart stops.

_ In love. _

“I love you.” The words tumble out from his mouth before he can catch them.

Jaehwan’s song abruptly stops.

It’s strange. Hongbin’s heart isn’t racing a mile a minute, the way it does whenever Jaehwan kisses him and he has to break the kiss in order to calm down. There’s a quiet serenity that’s settled over him, and he’s more relaxed than he’s ever been.

He loves Jaehwan. The huge question mark over his jumble of emotions suddenly fizzles, and the tangle of confusion unravels.

Jaehwan is silent, but Hongbin isn’t nervous. He’s known, probably since they started dating, what Jaehwan felt for him. Why Jaehwan had been so careful and understanding, never pushing Hongbin past his comfort zone. Why Jaehwan never got frustrated.

Why Jaehwan stayed through everything.

The weight lifts from Hongbin’s shoulder, and then there are hands (he knows these hands — he’s held them countless times) on either side of his face, gently turning his head to face Jaehwan.

Jaehwan’s smiling, eyes crinkled. “Took you long enough.” Jaehwan says, but there’s a tremor in his voice. “I love you too, idiot.”

Hongbin’s face scrunches up. “I know.”

When Jaehwan kisses him again, Hongbin’s heart races again, but it’s different.

It races towards a new chapter of history, a story being written solely between him and Jaehwan.


	5. where.

“Wow.” Jaehwan breathes, voice almost inaudible.

It’s not even a full, coherent thought, but Hongbin agrees. The promenade along the Dotonbori River is like an oasis amongst the Osaka metropolis. The sun has well sunk below the horizon, but the buildings are all lit up like steel-structured stars. The water of the river reflects the lights, glittering like a depthless gem. 

Hongbin reaches out, finding Jaehwan’s hand, and their pinkies interlock almost instinctively. Jaehwan is right.  _ Wow. _

“Maybe if the Han River was this pretty, Osaka wouldn’t have made it onto my bucket list.” Jaehwan says. Hongbin knows he’s only half-joking.

“I think you would’ve came regardless. You’ve spent a year’s worth of our earnings in one day.” Hongbin gives Jaehwan a sideways accusing look, but there’s no heat in it.

Jaehwan knows it, too, from the way he shrugs with a mischievous grin. “Worth it.”

Hongbin snorts. “That mini grill was  _ not  _ worth it.”

“You’ll thank me later. How else can you have mini barbecue parties?”

“Not your best logic, but alright.”

“Hey,” Jaehwan bumps shoulders with him. “You needed this too. I had to get you out of Seoul, at least for a little bit.”

“Seoul has everything I need,” Hongbin says monotonously.

“You’ve never had  _ sushi  _ before.” Jaehwan sounds absolutely scandalized. “How is that possible?”

“Wasn’t even that good.” Hongbin mumbles. (It’s a lie. The sushi was the best thing he’d eaten in years).

Jaehwan falls silent, and his ear is cocked towards the sky, as if he’s trying to drink in all the sights and sounds before him, afraid to let it slip away. Hongbin thinks he’s done more in two days than he’s done in a month, and his phone storage is barely hovering on the brink from all the pictures he’s taken. Jaehwan’s already wheedled him into making an album when they get back home, a real physical copy of all the new experiences Hongbin’s gone through in Osaka.

They were only supposed to stay for five days, tops, but somehow the trip’s been extended to a week. Jaehwan’s reluctant to leave, and wherever Jaehwan is, Hongbin stays. He doesn’t even mind that his boss is probably going to be pissed at him for overstaying his allotted vacation days. He hasn’t seen Jaehwan this happy and liberated in months. Osaka was the breath of fresh air that they had both needed, desperately.

“At least your Japanese skills came to good use,” Jaehwan says after a moment. “And to think that you said that class was useless.”

Now that, Hongbin can’t argue. His limited conversational skills had been their saving grace the past few days. “You’re right,” He concedes easily.

“I always am,” Jaehwan says smugly. “Admit it, this was a  _ great  _ idea.”

Hongbin smiles, spotting the other couples lined up around the river, the noise of cars and blasting music muted in this little oasis of the city. He looks over to the side, and Jaehwan’s eyes are positively  _ sparkling,  _ the lights dancing on the water reflected in his eyes. He’s absolutely radiant, basking in the environment of a new city and new experience.

“I know,” Hongbin whispers.


	6. why.

Jaehwan is diagnosed a month after they return to Seoul.

He’d been having irregular sleep patterns for two months, going almost days with zero sleep. Hongbin would sometimes wake up to Jaehwan shaking from an unknown terror, heart skipping to an irregular and unsafe rhythm. They’d both thought that the stress from Jaehwan’s demanding job had just been taking an unusual toll on him. Hongbin had hoped that the trip to Osaka would be a welcome breather for him.

And for the week that they were there, it was.

But then one night, in their hotel room, Jaehwan had scrambled out of bed and curled up on the floor, wheezing and clutching at his chest, his face, his hair, eyes unfocused and staring at nothing as Hongbin clutched him tightly and yelled almost hysterically for Jaehwan to calm down, to realize that he was okay and that Hongbin was there.

They’d hoped that had been the worst of it, but fate had other cruel intentions.

Fatal insomnia. Extremely rare, usually inherited, a disease that seized the brain. Jaehwan was among the even rarer minority that had contracted it spontaneously, due to a non-inherited mutation of a protein in his brain. Four stages, and average survival time of eighteen months after contraction.

No known cure.

The only treatment that could be provided was supportive. The doctors offered to run experiments, to use the opportunity to try and miraculously create a previously unknown cure, but the doubt in their eyes had told Hongbin enough.

Jaehwan was already at the end of the first stage by the time he’d been diagnosed. The first lasted four months — increasingly worse insomnia, panic attacks, paranoia, phobias. The second stage lasted five months — hallucinations and increased panic attacks. After that, it only got worse, with three months of an almost complete lack of sleep and drastic weight loss.

Then, the final stage. Over a course of six months, dementia set in, and the patient would become unresponsive and mute.

And then. And then.

_Jaehwan will have to stay in the hospital from now on. He is moving into the second stage of the disease, and he’ll have about two to three months before he’ll need to be put under intensive care. Casual visits will no longer be possible. You will still be able to see him, but the process will become complicated...He will slowly but surely lose his grip on reality as we know it, and he may not even recognize you anymore..._

This really is a bad cliche romance novel, Hongbin thinks sometimes. Except now there’s an angsty twist and the lover has contracted an almost impossible fatal disease.

Hongbin had always known that Jaehwan was too good to be true.

And now that goodness was being taken from him. From everyone.

Hongbin tries to visit at least three times a week. This time, he notices the change almost immediately, and the pain in his chest is so violent that it’s all he can do from collapsing. The light in Jaehwan’s eyes, like they held the stars and city lights within them, look upon Hongbin dully. The shadows underneath them signified the increasing lack of sleep, the increasing hours Jaehwan lay awake with no reprieve from his thoughts and pains.

“Hey,” Jaehwan smiles. He’d always smile, just for Hongbin.

Hongbin clears his throat. “Hey yourself,” He says, voice strong as he goes to sit beside Jaehwan. He’s not going to break down in front of Jaehwan. Jaehwan doesn’t need that.

Jaehwan reaches out, and Hongbin takes his hand immediately. It might be a trick of his mind, but even Jaehwan’s palm feels colder, already being leeched of his usual liveliness.

Hongbin feels a visceral loathing flare up in his gut. It’s not fair. It’s not fair how someone so full of life and youth is being drained, day by day, because the confines of consciousness are too selfish to let him go.

It’s not fair that the best thing that’s ever happened to Hongbin will soon lose all sense of reality, lose all sense of _himself._

“I miss being home,” Jaehwan murmurs, head turned towards Hongbin. “Maybe if you were here every night, I’d be able to sleep a little better.”

Hongbin reaches out to flick a stray strand of hair from Jaehwan’s forehead. “Don’t they have hypnotists here and everything? All that freaky mind magic.”

Jaehwan huffs out a laugh. “None of it works. The best drug for a good night’s sleep is you.”

“Cheesy.” Hongbin teases, trying to summon his usual fervor he gets whenever he’s with Jaehwan. “Maybe if these shitty hospital cots had our memory foam mattress, you’d sleep like a baby.”

“That memory foam was one of my best ideas.” Jaehwan smiles tiredly, and there’s a sudden burning at the back of Hongbin’s eyes.

“One of your _few_ good ideas, you mean.” It’s getting harder and harder to keep up their usual banter, knowing that Jaehwan probably hasn’t slept in four days and that Hongbin couldn’t be there through any of it. Jaehwan liked being cuddled throughout the night. He liked having Hongbin against his back, a steady anchor keeping him grounded to what was real.

Jaehwan’s been lying awake all night, alone. The thought of it is so sharp that it startles Hongbin’s next words out of him.

“I’m sorry.” Hongbin says without thinking.

Jaehwan doesn’t say anything, and Hongbin doesn’t expect him to. Sorry for what? Sorry that Jaehwan had to be one in an impossible few to get this rare disease? Sorry that Jaehwan was going to die? Sorry that Hongbin couldn’t be there to hold him and maybe even help him catch a few hours of dreamless relief?

Sorry that Hongbin was so utterly useless in the face of this? Of everything?

“Hongbin,” Jaehwan murmurs softly. Jaehwan pulls his hand from Hongbin’s grasp, only to cup his face tenderly, thumbs brushing over the planes of his cheekbones. “Did I ever tell you how pretty I thought you were when I first saw you in high school? How intrigued I was by you?”

Hongbin can’t stop the tears that start to trickle, hot and shameful, from the corners of his eyes.

“I wanted to be your friend so badly,” Jaehwan continues, wiping away the first tears that reach his fingers. “You were so pretty.”

A noise chokes its way out of Hongbin’s throat, wrenching free from the fractures cracking in his ribs. Jaehwan just smiles tiredly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Hongbin’s. “Pretty,” He repeats softly, nuzzling Hongbin’s cheek with his own. “Pretty,” He says again, kissing the corners of Hongbin’s eyes, kissing away the tears pooling there. An angel trying to take away the pain.

“I never deserved you,” Hongbin despairs quietly, lips moving against the coldness of Jaehwan’s skin, the phantom of a kiss.

Jaehwan chuckles bittersweetly. “We both know that’s not true.”

Hongbin doesn’t reply. He lets Jaehwan press kisses against his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth. Each kiss brands a message into his skin, sinking in and making a home in the space that Jaehwan already wholly occupies, leaving no other room for anything else.

“Thank you,” Jaehwan says against Hongbin’s lips.

There is no context behind the gratitude, but Hongbin understands. He just _understands,_ and the knowledge of what Jaehwan’s saying only urges the tears faster.

He runs his fingers through Jaehwan’s hair, and the pleased and familiar sound the latter makes soothes his soul, if only slightly. “I’m sorry.” He says again, voice cracking on the last syllable.

Jaehwan sighs, exuding an exhaustion that permeated the bones. He presses a chaste kiss to Hongbin’s lips, giving him one final message. The next words are barely a wisp of breath against Hongbin’s mouth.

“I know.”

 

* * *

  

_Tonight I'm looking at_

_the melancholic moon._

_You, just as lonely as I am._

_Living on with an empty heart._

_The day is gone again._

_The night is passing._

_Love has left me too._


	7. +how.

Hongbin fell for the image of the perfect and popular high school boy, the fantasy that turned out to be just as good as dreamt up to be and so much more. The fairytale boy with a good heart and a lovely voice.

Hongbin lived for the inside jokes, the banter, the roommate that met up with him for coffee every day and had all the personality, humor, and taste that Hongbin could ever ask for. He was the best friend that saw Hongbin through all his failed relationships before he finally clicked into the right one.

Hongbin would always remember their moments in time, preserved in his memory like flies in amber, spotless and beautiful in their poignance — the moments that they’d started new chapters of their life together, the days that Hongbin would continue to reminiscence about for years and years and years.

Hongbin would remember Osaka, the other places he’d always followed Jaehwan to. Wherever Jaehwan went, he’d always be by his side, always together even in unfamiliar cities and in the face of new experiences. The experiences that made him into an infinitely better person.

Hongbin understands that final thank you, even without any context on Jaehwan’s part. All the messages that Jaehwan had tried to convey through his kisses. 

_ Thank you for letting me love you.  _

The last time he’d seen Jaehwan, a shadow of the Jaehwan he’d loved, he’d gripped Hongbin’s hand tightly. “ _ I’m only a little afraid,”  _ He’d admitted with a tremulous voice. “ _ But I don’t regret anything. I’m okay.” _

And Hongbin understands. 

All the good and bad, all the experiences, all the giving and receiving and losing. Jaehwan had gone through it all with what he’d had with Hongbin.

_ Thank you. _

It was in the way Hongbin remembered everything, even the rough patches of their relationship, fondly. It was in the way where a day didn’t go by when he didn’t think of Jaehwan, however briefly.

It was in the way Jaehwan had soon slipped off into an eternal sleep, not even knowing his own name but knowing that he was loved and would always be loved by someone.

Completely, wholly, selflessly.

_ Thank you.  _

_ My first and my last. _


End file.
